Creating A Family

Hi friends.

It's really hard for me to put into words the hardship of this stage in my life. It seems that, whenever I try to explain it to people, I only get confused looks and "yeah...buts." (Although, there are a few out there, while not in my position, have very graciously taken the time to put themselves in my shoes and have shown sincere empathy.) I can only assume that most people who look at my life view it as perfect, easy breezy, fun, adventure-filled, care-free...so on and so forth. And, admittedly, it is some of those things some of the time. Possibly all of those things some of the time...well, all but perfect. I thoroughly enjoy my life 85% of the time. I really do. But, enjoying my life does not come easy...although it may look easy. Just ask the many MANY bitter, hard-hearted, young-to-mid-single LDS adults out there. If you don't know many LDS mid-singles...I do. And let me tell you, it takes WORK. Major WORK to remain focused, happy, progressing and satisfied with life. A big chunk of them leave the church during this time...due to frustration, impatience, fears, loneliness, insecurities...that all seem to be magnified while you're waiting around to be chosen by an eternal companion...to start the life you've been taught your whole life you should be living. In fact, I know a good handful who have left the church just in the last year since moving to Seattle.

There are consistent fears hovering over me 24/7...fears that I know other singles feel, and fears I continue to put major effort into pushing out of my mind and heart. These fears include "I'm not, and never will, fulfill my divine potential." "How do I keep from becoming consumed with pride and selfishness without being a mother...a sacred role that forces selflessness?" "If I were to die, no one would miss me after two weeks. I'm nobody's constant somebody' like wives and mothers are." "Am I changing anyone's life for the better?" "I'm not worthy of motherhood." "I don't belong anywhere...I'm a misfit that the church...my family...EVERYONE doesn't know what to do with." My step-sister, Jonna, who didn't get married until she was 36 says it best with this line, "My constant prayer to God while I was single and alone was this: 'Please...just don't forget about me. Please God...don't forget I'm here."

Believe me, I am very aware that women out there who are wives and mothers have a few of these same fears...plus different fears...and I'm also very aware that it takes major WORK for EVERYONE, no matter the stage of life, to enjoy life. Some times are easier than others for everyone. 

All I'm saying is...well. I don't know. I guess I'm saying that it's hard for my "kind" too, and it's nice when people acknowledge that. But, I guess the most important thing to remember is that God acknowledges it...He knows all of our hardships and struggles, no matter what stage of life we're in.

The past 6 months have brought me a lot of joy. Mostly because of the effort I've put into remaining happy, coupled with the Lord's help. I remember last year around this time, pleading with God that He'd help me have the desire to get close to people. That He'd bless me with the desire to participate in activities, make friends and feel a sense of 'belonging.' I kept it on the DL, but my experience in my first house in Seattle was less than pleasant. It wasn't necessarily one person's fault, but there were very different priorities and ideas of what "the pursuit of happiness" means...and while there was a lot of love in my heart for the home and the people in the home, my soul went through constant turmoil and struggle. Due to my inner-turmoil, it was hard for me to reach out to anyone. As I touched on in my last post, I really did have a chip on my shoulder. But, I prayed. And I prayed. And I prayed some more.

Here's what happened. After constant prayer (both verbally, and the desires of my heart) and consistent effort, God blessed me with a "family." A family of singles who truly understand me and my struggles, need me, appreciate me, and care about me. He guided me to a new home...with one old and a couple new roommates. He gave me a calling that would stretch me and make me social. He put people in my path. He tugged at other people's hearts to help them make an effort with me. He gave me a "family."

I would sit here and write about each person who's touched my life here in Seattle...each person who's become a part of my "family," but I'm realizing it will take too much time. I've made bonds in the past several months that I know will never be broken. God has led me directly into these individuals' lives...and them into mine. We all feel it. It's not a coincidence that we're here, helping each other progress and be better. I've attended the temple more in the past few months than I have in years previous. Why? Because of the righteous influence of the people around me. I'm a better visiting teacher. I'm putting more effort into my calling because of the influence of others. We're all trying. And we'll be darned if we let each other fall through the cracks.

God won't let us fall through the cracks. It does take effort from us. It really does. But He loves us, and He won't forget about us. He doesn't want to lose us.

Here's a few pictures documenting experiences with my "family." :)

Katie and I at the Seahawks game.

Katie and I hiking...in humid weather...as you can tell by my hair. ;)

Callie always goes ALL OUT for Halloween. I don't have enough pics with her, but we're good buds. :)

Sheri and I touching a jellyfish. We're going to New Zealand together!

Friendsgiving!

More Friendsgiving. :)

Katie and Marybeth are some of the greatest roommates.

Left to right: Heather, Marybeth, Andrea at Snoqualmie Falls.

Christmas roommate bonding with Marybeth, Jackie and Katie.

Camping with (left to right) Kaili, Sheri, Marybeth and Bonnie (who's hiding).

Visiting the Ballard Locks with (left to right) Marybeth, Sheri and Katie.

The truth is...

Just because I post on Facebook frequently does not mean you *speaking in general terms* know me.

Just because I post pictures of New York does not mean my life is amazingly exciting.

Just because I'm always positive on Facebook does not mean I'm never negative.

Just because I talk about Paleo on Facebook does not mean I don't eat treats on a regular occurrence.

Just because my life doesn't have your problems does not mean it does not have problems.


Let me tell you who does know me.

The people who choose to talk to me outside of Facebook land. I have one friend here in Seattle, who completely left Facebook for several months. She came back for a week and then just realized it wasn't for her and left again. Do you know who I turned to yesterday when I basically had a panic attack about my life...its lack of direction and (what I was feeling at the time) lack of meaningful relationships? S, my non-Facebook friend.

S immediately befriended me when I moved to Seattle. Immediately. She was not in the Relief Society presidency. She was not in any sort of leadership calling. She was not my visiting teacher. And she was not a non-popular girl (yes, I'm speaking in high school terms, because...let's be honest, remaining single in the LDS scene reverts you back to high school.) S is known by all. She's funny, liked, knows everybody and everybody knows her. So, I wasn't her desperate attempt at making an only friend. She already had friends. She didn't need me.

I had a wall up when I moved to Seattle. I'd go to church with a bit of a chip on my shoulder. "I'm tired of having to make friends. It's exhausting, you have to make small-talk, you have to beat around the bush several times before you can start talking about real stuff...then you do talk about real stuff and they get married and you have to start all over again." That's what I told myself. And because of that, I had a bit of a "I DON'T CARE" sign on my forehead. Actually, not a bit of one...a big one. For that reason AND because I had heard about something called "The Seattle Freeze," where it's known that the long-time Seattle people freeze out the new-timers...never inviting them to anything and making them feel left out and loser-ish...I put the "I DON'T CARE" sign up frequently...to protect myself, of course. *Don't you wish you were single again? I'm sure you're just thinking "MAN that sounds so fun and mature!" This type of thing occurs everywhere. Utah. Idaho. Washington D.C. Seattle.*

Over the past year, S somehow managed to remove that sign from my forehead. She'd randomly drop by the house where I lived, chatting with me and my roommates. Asking us to accompany her to get some hot chocolate or go camping or whatever. She'd throw little parties and always include me....WHEN SHE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW ME. Seriously, the first month I was in Seattle, she threw a little get-together and invited me to it...sending me a private message (back when she was on Facebook) telling me how much she'd love for me to come. I didn't go, because I still had the sign up. But that didn't stop her from trying.

Then one day we figured out we rode the same bus into downtown in the mornings. I would always listen to my music on the bus...and never wanted her to think I actually cared if she sat by me, so the first few weeks, I'd always let her come to me...just to make sure she actually did want to talk in the mornings. (I have insecurities that I usually don't make apparent.) And, she always did. She'd see me, move toward the back of the bus where I was, sit down and start talking. And it was then...those mornings on the bus, that I finally...FINALLY removed the "I DON'T CARE" sign from my forehead.

We no longer ride the same bus, because I moved...but we've kept our friendship strong.

S saved me from myself...from my insecurities, my frustrations, my pessimism...that were all keeping me from making friends.

So, yesterday, when I had a melt down...who did I turn to? Roommates were gone, I was bawling. I texted S and headed to her house. She had no idea it would be a melt-down session, so when I asked if I could come over she was like, "Absolutely!" I go inside her house and immediately start to cry and she says something like, "Oh...okay. It's one of those days. Have a seat. Put up your feet. I'll go get my really soft tissues." And for the next hour and a half, we cried together.

I love S. She's an angel. She's had bad days too, of course. It's not all one-sided. I've listened to her in times of distress. But the point is, she and I would not be friends if it had been left up to me. I'm ashamed to say it, but seriously...we would not have been friends. She magically broke down my wall, and I took down the sign.

I am so thankful for people who listen to the promptings of the Spirit. I'm thankful for small miracles. For unseen angels. For the team that surrounds us, even when we don't know they're there. They are there. God knows us. He doesn't just see what we put on Facebook for people to see...He sees everything. And I'm thankful for that.

Dear Dad... A letter of reflection

Dear Dad,

It’s been a long time. Twenty years is a really long time. When someone turns 20 years old, people tell them that they’re still young. That they’ve got plenty of living to do. But when a person you love has been missing from your life’s story for 20 years…that’s a LONG time. Years of change, growth, mistakes, pain, triumphs, joys, laughter, tears, knowledge gained and so much more…all passed without you here. Twenty. You've been gone twenty years.

These past couple of days, as we’ve been approaching the 20-year mark of you being gone, I've had memories wash over me…coming and going in waves. Feelings. My heart keeps going back in time, to the end of your life. That time was a bit rough. My brain and heart were going through a lot of turmoil, because I was ready for you to die. I was only 8, you know. I’ve had to remind myself of that multiple times these past 20 years. Only 8…close to 9. I look at 8-year-olds now and think, “Wow. Really? That’s how old I was when Dad died? Really? They’re just babies.” But I felt so old. Those last two years of your life, and especially the last few weeks of your life, you weren’t the dad I knew. You were really the only dad Kayleen knew, but I remembered a lot better from before. And you had changed…and you were rapidly changing toward the end. I don’t clearly remember saying goodbye to you. I remember being a little nervous…the last time I saw you. You couldn’t speak. And Grandma kept coaxing me to say things. It’s vague. Fuzzy. What I really remember is the feeling. The feeling of knowing you were going to die. That soon, the hype would end, that people would be sad, and we’d be left to face the future without you.

Feelings. So many emotions for such a young kid. I don’t really know when or how it happened, but I became Mom’s help-mate. She treated me like her equal. She’d talk to me about her worries and ask my advice on things. Sure, I was still a kid, but it was Mom and the kids. We were a team. She did a really great job as a single parent. Better than could be expected. We were all tired…and emotional. Lots of fast-food eating. Lots of daycare time. But Mom always knew what was important. We’d all crawl in your big water bed at night and she’d read to us. She’d wake us up in the morning with a kiss on the cheek. And before school, we’d learn the Articles of Faith by standing around the piano and singing them while we waited for the bus.

There was a time after you died that I was angry. I was a pretty angry kid for a while. They say, statistically speaking, that kids who lose a parent have a hard time adjusting in the world. Many kids have long-lasting effects and challenges from losing a parent. Apparently, the younger your age when losing a loved one, the more impact that loss causes you in certain pivotal moments of your life. There are life-altering moments along the way to adult-hood, and even when adult-hood hits. And every time one of those moments occurs and you’re not there, the wave and emotion of loss hits 10-fold all over again. Like, for instance, your first church or school dance. Your first day of high school. Learning to drive a car. Going on your first date. Making a touch-down or a home-run hit in a big game. Winning a State competition. Graduating from high school. Baring your testimony in church for the first time. Passing the sacrament in church for the first time. Winning first prize for baked cookies at the County Fair. Getting your Eagle Scout. Starting your first day of college. Coming home for the first holiday after starting college. Leaving to serve a mission. Bringing home the person you want to marry. Announcing your engagement. Having your first child. And so on and so forth. The pain isn’t any less the older you are when losing a parent. And you have more time to gain a relationship with that parent when they pass at an older age. But the freshness of the loss reoccurs over and over and over….more times the younger you are when you lose that parent. And for me, Dad…I’ve had 20 years of pivotal moments without you. Moments where the loss has washed over me, drowning me in longing and desire.

But, let’s not get dramatic. By the way Dad, in case you didn’t know…I am a dramatic person. I used to hate that about myself. I’ve come to embrace it. Dramatic people don’t necessarily like, attract or want to attract drama. They just feel and express things very intensely. That’s a common misconception (in my opinion) about dramatic people. And that’s me. I don’t express or feel things half way. It’s pretty much all or nothing for me. And I’ve figured out…or, I’m still figuring out how to handle it. I think I kind of became this way when you left. I mean, I’m sure I had bits of my personality prior to you leaving. But I think the fact that you were taken from me without my choice…no control…made me need all or nothing commitments. No half-hearted attempts. No wishy-washy friendships. No maybes. I need commitment.  

Losing you has made me want to give a lot in my life. There are a lot of people aching…so many people with breaking hearts. I think I’ve figured out how to use my heart-break to fuel my love for and desire to give to the people around me. I’m still selfish at times. Pride creeps in a lot. I get angry and lash out on occasion. But I try…try so hard to give people the benefit of the doubt. I don’t know what they experienced as a kid. I don’t know who left them along the way. I don’t know what they’re experiencing right now. So, I try… I try to see the commonalities between me and them. And I try to give. And I feel like I wouldn’t be this way if you hadn’t left. Your death has brought out some of the worst, but some of the best qualities in me. I have a particular soft spot for homeless people. I seriously cry whenever I see homeless people. I try to talk to them and find out a little bit about them.  And…kids. For a while I was volunteering at a place called The Healing Center. It was a center for grieving families, children, teens and young adults who had lost loved ones. When you died, I went to a place called The Dougy Center, which helps grieving children. If it hadn’t been for The Dougy Center, and church…I don’t think I would have dealt with your death in a healthy manner. So, I tried to give back in a similar environment…The Healing Center. I worked with them for a little while, helping at events and such, but it was honestly hard for me. Being surrounded by so many people with such raw heart-ache, but not being able to interact with them on a personal level…it kind of got to me. So, lately, I’ve been putting energy into applying to the Big Brother Big Sister nonprofit program. It’s a long application process, and I really hope I get accepted. I want to be a consistent “somebody” in a kid’s life.

When you left, Heavenly Father blessed me with consistent “somebodies.”  And He’s blessed me with them year after year. Many of my consistent “somebodies”…in fact, the majority of them in my childhood, came in the church environment. Teachers and leaders who saw me, saw that I needed a consistent somebody, and chose to make me a priority in their life. 

I thank God all the time that you and mom met, and raised us in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I’m so thankful you found your way back to the Gospel after a time of darkness, and that you decided to change your life’s direction and accept the Lord’s help and Atonement. I’m so so proud of you for working hard to be worthy to serve a mission. I LOVE that you chose to marry Mom. I LOVE that you two chose to love each other…put imperfections aside, and chose to love each other. I LOVE that you chose to love God.

Dad, I’m not perfect. I used to care a lot about perfection. So much so, that I drove myself into a deep depression over it. As a kid, I was terrified my imperfections would keep me from seeing you again. It kind of caused an obsessive compulsive behavior of consistently agonizing over my weaknesses and imperfections, and needing to confess all my faults to the world. At age NINE. And TEN. And ELEVEN. I would agonize…torture myself of misdeeds I had done, things that might keep me out of Heaven with you. One time, at age 9, I had convinced myself that I could have murdered someone in my sleep and suppressed the memory…put it deep in my subconscious. And I would never see you again because I had done something so unforgiveable, and would never be able to make up for it. I would spend my nights panicking and crying and confessing every possible sin I could have ever committed and would ever commit in the future to Mom. Poor woman. She had a lunatic child. BUT, the point is…this obsessive compulsiveness progressed throughout my life, manifested itself in depression sometimes…and all came to a really ugly head a couple years ago, when I was able to finally…FINALLY let go of the idea of perfection. That statement confuses some people. And I’m still exploring what that means for me. It doesn’t mean that I’m not trying to better myself. I’m always trying to better myself. It doesn’t mean that I’m not trying to be like the Savior. I am trying to be like the Savior. But what it does mean is I’ve finally realized that I cannot control my imperfections. Not alone. And if I ignore them…try to pretend they’re not there…or hate myself for having them and waste my time wishing them away…that does me NO good. It makes it so that I rely on myself too much. It makes it so I hate myself if any imperfection creeps out of the box under my bed in which I’ve tried to stuff it. If I embrace my imperfections…recognize I have them, maybe even announce some of them, I’m then able to acknowledge I have them with the Savior, and work with Him to overcome them. So, I’m not perfect. And sometimes, throughout my life, I’ve worried that if you were here, and knew of some of the things I’ve felt, thought or done in my life, that you would be disappointed in me…maybe wouldn’t like me. But I’m letting go of those feelings. And it feels SO. GOOD. With the Savior’s help, it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.

Dad, the reality is, I miss you. I do. I long for you at times. There’s a spot in my heart that is empty…and is only temporarily tied over with the knowledge that I’ll one day see you again. I KNOW…I KNOW I will see you again. I will. You’re not gone. You’re still here. This isn’t just a coping mechanism. This isn’t just something I believe because it’s the only way I’ll survive. It’s something I know in my bones, in my flesh, in my spirit, in my mind, in my heart. Every single inch of me knows I will see you again. You are not gone. You are always here. And while I’ve had to live without your laugh, your smile, your touch, your voice…I haven’t had to live without you, because you…the real YOU is still alive. I don’t care what anybody tells me. YOU are still living. And I WILL see you again. I know it. I absolutely know it. I know I’ll be able to rekindle and build the relationship I started with you in the first nearly-nine years of my life. We will get this time back. We will have our chance to get to know each other. To make memories. To love each other. To bond. I know it.

Thank you for being the dad you were. Thank you for loving us. For spending so much quality time with us that we remember details about you that most kids wouldn’t remember from such a young age. Thank you for taking time to be with us. Thank you for taking me to work with you. Thank you for not coming home from work and watching T.V., but instead…chasing us around the house as the Tickle Monster, telling us stories in a dark room with a flashlight, for reading to us, for lifting us up on your feet to make us fly, and talking and listening to us like our thoughts were pieces of gold you treasured and couldn’t let go unheard. Thank you, Dad. Thank you for loving me…and leaving me with the best memories, the best faith, the best Mom and the best brother and sister I could ever ask for. Thank you for your life. I will see you again.

Love,

Crys

P.S. In the letter you wrote to me before you died, you said, “Dear Crys, (I hope you don’t mind me calling you Crys).”  No Dad, I still don’t mind you calling me Crys. I LOVE it. It's endearing, and as I always say...tender. And thanks for that letter, by the way. It’s gotten me through some dang rough patches. LOVE you!

A title is too much pressure

I'm feeling the need to make a difference. Do something big. Make the world a better place.

I want to better my community. Or help a homeless young adult. Or be a support to someone who's fighting the battle of obesity.

I have a good job. I'm living the life of a single woman in a big city. I have friends, I have roommates, I have coworkers, I have insurance. I have a decent beginner's salary. But, right now, I feel like I don't have a lot of purpose.

I've made peace with the idea of being single for the remainder of this life. I know it's still very early to know for sure. But I think it's healthy to make peace with all possible situations. To be honest, if the possibility of marriage were to come along, I think I'd be very nervous...very apprehensive...very cautious. I've just been living with myself for so long (close to 29 years), and I feel like I still have so much to improve and learn about myself.

Anyway. I love Seattle. I really do. I love that I work in the city, in a tall beautiful building. I love that I commute into the city on the bus every day. I love that the city is surrounded by water. I love that I can smell the water as I walk through the city. I love people-watching. The other day, I watched as a man chased another man down to return the cell phone that had fallen out of the man's pocket. I love the good I see.

I don't love homelessness. I see it in its rawest form on a daily basis. People sleeping on streets in the morning. People with mental illness walking around...aimlessly, talking to themselves in clothes that wreak of day's worth of sweat and body odor. I hate it. I absolutely HATE it. I think what I hate the most is I can't do a DANG THING for them. I can give them money. I can talk to them...treat them like real people, because, after all...they are real people. They have parents, they once had a home...they have a story. But really, I can't do anything for them. And it seriously maddens me. I'm frustrated just thinking about it. How do I change it? I can't. I don't know how.

The thing is, friends...I need purpose in my life. I need to join a cause. Or...change a life. Or...I don't know, do something that can, in some very SMALL way, make up for the loss of motherhood. I realize I still have time to experience motherhood. But guys, if I don't get to experience it, I really need something to keep me selfless. And honestly, the job I'm in right now...working in HR...Compensation for a bank, well, it's not filling that need.

So, I need to do something. And I need to do it quick. I want to keep growing, progressing, loving, learning and improving. I don't want to get stuck. I don't want to be selfish. I don't want to glide. I want to climb. I want to fly. And I want to use this life to help others climb and fly.

This Is Me: Thoughts from 10,000 feet above ground

The other day, as I was flying to Utah...these thoughts came to my mind. So I wrote them out on a notepad. And here they are on my blog, for all to read.

I'm pretty transparent. I don't know if that's a fault or if that's a strength. But it's who I am. I've always been candid. I say what I feel and desire others to do the same. I'm trusting. And I'm honestly more surprised, shocked and stupefied than anything when I realize I've been judged for being honest and sincere.

My transparency might make some uncomfortable. Maybe embarrassed. Like when I openly admit my weaknesses and faults to the masses. I accept them as part of what is helping me become God-like. I was placed on this earth to learn to overcome my natural man, and to help others in that process as well. How am I to do either of those things if I try to pretend or act like I have nothing to overcome? That's just silly. I'd have no need for Jesus Christ. I'd have no need to even be here on earth. And how am I expected to help others through the journey if I'm portraying myself as a perfect individual? No one would trust me. No one would feel comfortable around me. No one would really believe my testimony...of the Atonement, salvation, the love of God.

I do believe in constantly trying to better myself. Again, that's what this life is for. To prepare to meet God...overcome sin, to feel comfortable in His presence. So, should I embrace my weaknesses as part of me for eternity...things I can never change? Of course not. But if I try to pretend like they do not exist, then I will never actually overcome them. They'll always be there...the part of me I hate, causing anguish and self-hatred when they rear their ugly heads.

So, I am transparent. I allow you to see the good and bad. I admit I have issues, struggles and temptations. I keep my emotions really close to the surface. The consequence of my transparency usually consists of many deep, ever-lasting friendships everywhere I go. It also consists of inner peace and self-awareness. But sometimes, every once in a while...it consists of judgment and meanness. That's okay. The good consequences grossly outweigh the bad. So, I will continue to be transparent. I wouldn't know how to be any other way, even if I tried.

This summer...

I'm taking acting classes. Boom.

Remember this?

Lately I've been thinking about the relationship between fathers and their children. This song came to my mind.

"You're living proof that dreams come true. I love you and I'm hear for you." This song brings tears to my eyes.

Amy Grant: More than just a singer

Those who know me know of my love for Amy Grant. Seriously. Literally everyone who's ever known me knows I love Amy Grant. It's just part of who I am.

You people probably could NOT care LESS about why I love Amy Grant so much. But I'm writing this post anyway...more for myself than anything.

Yesterday my roommate's friend started asking me about Amy, why I love her so much...what my favorite Amy song and album are...so on and so forth. I couldn't give him a real clear answer as to what my favorite song or album is, which got me thinking. I briefly explained to him that my love for Amy goes much deeper than enjoying her songs or her voice. While I do love those things, there's so much more behind my Amy Grant dedication.

There are a few reasons I've formed such a strong admiration of Amy Grant. For those of you who read my blog regularly, you'll recognize some of this from a post I wrote a couple years ago.

1....

***Many of you know me as the daughter of Chuck and Carla Hanchett. Or, if you don't personally know my mom and Chuck, you most likely do know that my dad, Brian Perry, passed away when I was 8 years old. Amy Grant, to me, represents the me that existed as the daughter of Brian and Carla Perry.

I was introduced to Amy Grant's music when I was...maybe 3? I used to say that my first encounter with her music was when I was 5 years old. My mom was pregnant with my brother and I distinctly remember my mom and dad buying her Heart in Motion album/tape and saying to Kayleen and me, "We're going to have a little baby in our home soon. And this tape has a song about a baby." We were excited...there was a song about our little unborn brother on that tape! My parents were referring to Amy's popular song Baby Baby which is about Amy Grant's daughter, Millie. Amy wrote it for/about Millie when Millie was only an infant. The record company made it into a love song. But, now that I think of it, I don't believe this was my first introduction to Amy, because my mom had Amy's "Collection" tape that I can remember listening to prior to Baby Baby. Anyway...I loved Amy back then because I wanted to be a singer, and I loved pretending I was her. I'd stand on the coffee table with a hair brush and just belt it out. Kayleen and I would request her on basically every car ride.

My dad liked Amy Grant. My mom liked Amy Grant. Our little family liked Amy Grant. We all listened to her together. So you see, she represents a part of my history that not many people know or are familiar with. The Brian/Carla Perry family. The days when my dad was not just a memory.***


2....

***My dad's death, and then my mom's second marriage to Chuck, were not easy for me.

When my dad got sick, he changed. He was not the same person. He was more impatient, more child-like...and my 6, 7, and 8-year-old brain just couldn't handle it. He wasn't my dad. But Amy...Amy was Amy. And she'd calm me. When everything else around me was changing, Amy Grant remained the same. I'd listen to Heart In Motion and my mind would go back to the simple days in Germany, when my dad was well and things were "normal." After my dad's death, she produced another album. I got it for Christmas, and of course, listened and listened and listened. Amy's soothing voice was familiar to me. And helped me during really, really hard times. She was my friend, and her words brought me comfort.

Sometime after my mom got remarried, I went through a really depressed period of time. It's not exactly easy to combine two separate families... I won't go into that with too much detail, but we'll just say there were a lot of changes, and I, once again, had a constant in Amy. Not only was there a constant in Amy, but she influenced me to express my emotions and feelings through music. I had remembered hearing her say in an interview something to the effect of, "I believe everyone can write a song; they're just intimidated by the idea, so they never try." I decided to put that theory to the test. I wanted to try. I borrowed my math teacher's guitar while I saved up my baby-sitting money for a year in order to buy my own. I learned simple chords and began to play Amy Grant songs. And then, I did it. I wrote my first song. And then my second, and third, and fourth, and a million. Amy was my inspiration. Because of my desire to play and write songs like she did, I had an outlet. I stayed sane. I developed my love of writing, singing...my love of artistic expression.***


3....

***I'm someone who tries to wear my heart on my sleeve. Actually, I don't try. It just comes naturally. I can't keep a lot of things inside. I talk about everything, good or bad. I try to be real. Transparent. Again, I don't really try. Often, to my own downfall, I'm too transparent. I can't hide what I'm feeling to save my freaking life. It can be really bad sometimes. There's good and bad about everyone's personalities and qualities.

But here's the deal. Amy Grant always seems real to me. Even when her music was kind of pop-ish and mainstream, she still wrote songs that meant something to her. She often says, "My mom always said, 'When you get on stage, sing something that matters.'" And she's tried to do that. You can hear the rawness and realness in her voice. She smiles while she sings. Sometimes she cries. You can just hear it.

Amy wrote this on her Facebook page the other day...and it represents exactly how I feel. "At some point in life you realize that some things really matter and some things don't. Living matters. Celebrating life matters. Seeing the value in hard times matters. Relationships and people matter. Faith matters. I feel like that's where my head has been while writing and recording this project." That project is her latest album, How Mercy Looks From Here.

Amy gets me. We're on the same page. At least, I think we are. Her music represents who and what I'm trying to be in this life. Real, raw, a good friend, a faithful daughter of God. ***

 These three things leave out a lot of tender things...like fond memories made over Amy Grant music, concerts attended with friends and family, Christmas decorating, karaoke fun...all to Amy's music. But, I'll spare you all those little memories.

So, friends. Amy is much more than a voice, a lyric, or a tune. Call me crazy. Call me obsessed. Call me a fanatic. That's fine. Her music has, I believe, made me a better person. If I ever get to meet her one day...well, I'll probably pee my pants and blubber some random nonsense. Maybe I'll just print this out and hand it to her. Who knows. But I'm thankful for her dedication to creating real, raw, meaningful and good music. It's saved my life on more than one occasion.

Deep As it is Wide

Original EASY Paleo Recipe--Skillet Chicken

I made the following recipe up...randomly. I do that often. But this was good, to my taste buds anyway.

Need:
2 Chicken breasts
1 Onion, sliced
1 Tbsp minced garlic
Italian seasoning (I honestly don't know how much I used)
Salt (same as the Italian seasoning)
1/2 C. Sun dried tomatoes
1/4 to 1/2 C. Artichoke Heart OIL (as in, the oily sauce that they marinate the artichoke hearts in...I use Costco brand)
1/2 C. Sauerkraut

Pour the oily liquid into a skillet along with garlic. Get it hot. Add Chicken. You can cut the chicken up, or you can keep it whole. I usually keep mine whole, but it depends on how fast I want it to cook. Add onion and tomatoes after the chicken's been cooking a little while. Sprinkle on Italian seasoning and salt. I probably used between 1 to 2 Tbsp of Italian seasoning...maybe more. Depends on my mood. :) Sate all of that together for...I don't know. 10 to 15 minutes maybe? Again, it will go faster if you cut up the chicken. Turn the heat to medium low, cover skillet with lid and let it all simmer up into a sauce type thing. Make sure the chicken is cooked through. Once cooked, add Sauerkraut right before you eat it.

YUM. Call me crazy...but YUM.

You could also add some chopped up artichoke hearts if you want. But those are some of my favorite things in the world, so I often have leftover oil with no hearts to actually use, because I've already eaten them all. :)

Let me know if anyone actually tries this. Maybe I'm just a wacko that likes crazy combinations. Or maybe, just maybe...I created a masterpiece! ;)

Thank Heaven for nieces and nephews

*For their open-mouth kisses when they're small
*For smiling when you play peek-a-boo
*For thinking you're so cool for taking them to get ice cream as they get older
*For never judging you based on looks, social status or job title
*For always being excited to see you
*For wanting to show you their latest drawing, school assignment or doll collection
*For giving you glimpses of Heaven when they sleep
*For melting your heart when they bring you a book and turn around to get situated just perfectly in your lap in order for story time
*For being ecstatic when you agree to have a slumber party on the living-room floor with them

And most importantly for me...

*For giving me someone to love, kiss and hug on while I'm wandering through this single/alone section of life

They keep my heart soft, thankful, positive and happy.

Thank Heaven for nieces and nephews.

Things I've refrained from posting on Facebook

I have a bitter-sweet relationship with Facebook. Part of me loves it...is obsessed with it and its amazing ability to keep people connected. The other part of me hates it, because it sucks you in and gives you a false sense of popularity, companionship, security and attention. When 20 people "like" your status, that just means that 20 people like your status. 20 people can passively, lazily say "Hey...I'm giving you attention, just to let you know I find amusement in what you wrote." It doesn't mean those same 20 people would have thought highly enough of you to actually call you up and say "I really appreciate what you said. Let's talk more about your thoughts." Probably 2 out of the 20 people would actually do that.

So, I've tried...TRIED to limit my posting on Facebook this week. Because I'm just tired of always thinking what I have to say needs to be heard by my facebook gang. But don't get me wrong, I've thought of plenty of things to post throughout the week. And I've even started to write them out to post, and then I've deleted them.

I'm not trying to belittle Facebook or other people who post frequently. And there's nothing wrong with posting something and enjoying the "likes" you receive on a post. Seriously, this is a battle within myself. A battle I fight both in the Internet world and in the real world. When should I stop talking? When is what I'm saying important...not important? Why do I think what I have to say is so special? Why do I feel the need to get so much attention? Why do I want people to think I'm funny? These are questions I ask myself a lot. And sometimes, I just need to stay silent...FORCE myself to stay silent, just to take a break from myself. You know?

With all that said, I need an outlet for all the things I would have posted on facebook this week. Since I have far less readers on this blog than I do in the land of Facebook, I thought it would be a good outlet.

1) I've been known to eat a whole apple on occasion...core and all. Gross? I think not. Just takin' after the cavemen. Try it. What makes the core any different from the rest of the apple? It all tastes the same.
                  Brilliant, I know. That would have gotten a total of...1 like.

2) I'm not going to say where I stand on gay marriage...basically because I just don't want to get into it with anyone. But what I will say is this: I'm tired of ignorant and insensitive people comparing gay marriage to a person wanting to marry their pet or an inhuman object. I hear it constantly..."Next thing you know, people will want to marry their dog." Really? Seriously...really?!? Come on, people! No matter where you stand on this issue, that is just downright insensitive. Two consenting adults who deeply love each other and want to get married is the same thing as a man or woman wanting to marry a dog, cow, chicken or shoe??? That just baffles me beyond belief. I will never understand that comparison, and I refuse to accept it. Let's have a little more respect for each other. You don't have to agree with gay marriage...but we can at least show some consideration of people's feelings.

                 I'm curious to know how ripped apart I would have gotten for that one....

3) Another week has come and gone. And I ask myself, what did I do this week to make a difference? Nothing. I did, however get out of bed and continue to put one foot in front of the other. Why? Because I have faith...faith that God has a plan for me. I'm thankful for Easter weekend, to remind me why I keep pushing forward in faith. Why I live, love, and care. Because Christ lives, loves and cares. Because He cares, I care. I live to share His love. So that's what I'll do. I know Jesus Christ lives. That he has felt our pain, sorrow, loneliness, heart-ache and experienced our mistakes weaknesses and wrong-doings. He's there to lift us up. He conquered physical death, so we can all reunite with each other in the flesh when this life is through. I'm thankful for the plan God created, and I'm thankful the Savior was willing to make that plan possible. I know they both live.
              
                   That one was super long-winded and kind of jumped all over the place. But the overall message came from my heart.

4) The sun is shining, it's warm outside, I just climbed the hill by my house 5 times to get my heart pumping, my roommate just bought baby chicks (free-range eggs, baby!) and I bought tickets for an acoustic Sara Bareilles concert in May! Gooooood Friday!

                    I actually did post this one, and then took it down two minutes later. Again, I say...I have an internal battle about why I feel the need to consistently let everyone know what's on my mind.

I'm sure there were more...in fact, I'm pretty positive there were more brewing in my head, but these are all the ones I actually wrote out, and then deleted. Maybe we can chalk it up to me just being a writer? Wanting to be heard? Not having a companion to talk to? I don't know...but it's worth thinking about.

Thanks for listening. ;)

As a Post Script--after I posted this, I nearly deleted it. Because, once again...why? Why did I post it? But...whatever. It's a blog, and I write. So I'm leaving it. Ah...to be human.

Hi guys

Not much to write about lately.

I've actually nearly forgotten about the land of blogging. Which kind of makes me sad. But happy at the same time, because when I do remember, several blogs have finally been updated since the last time I checked. When I check frequently, it seems like no one is ever posting.

My soul is feeling a little weary right now. Life is making me tired. And I was recently, powerfully reminded of one of my biggest weaknesses...which is very humbling...and a bit draining.

I went from working in a job where people absolutely LOVED me to a job where people act like I don't exist. That's been rough. I've been there for a month...it's getting a little better though.

I go back and forth between enjoying being free and single to longing for companionship. My life is a roller coaster of emotions...but isn't every life a roller coaster? I'm nothing special there.

Things that make me happy...and things I'm thankful for lately include but are not limited to:

1) The steep hill I walk every day
2) Spring is here
3) I live in a cute house
4) I've kept my room clean for a week and a half...like legitimately clean. That's unheard of for me.
5) Free bus pass
6) Good roommates
7) SUPER yummy paleo recipes... I mean, seriously. I eat GOOD food.
8) Cooking
9) My niece, Perry
10) The big body of water I cross every day on my way to work
11) Dancing With The Stars
12) A ward where I consistently feel spiritually fed and uplifted
13) Prayer
14) A sister who takes me to Costco
15) This burger place Kayleen and I found called "A Burger Place"...haha. There's a checklist, and you mark everything you want on your burger. And you can get them lettuce wrapped. Kayleen and I get bacon, egg, avocado and every freaking veggie under the sun on ours. YUM.

Hope you all are happy and healthy.

Fat vs. Skinny

Watch this.


Now read the article that goes along with it: http://thinkprogress.org/media/2013/02/11/1573871/adele-kelly-clarkson-fox-weight/

I'm going to go on a rant here...please forgive me.

I find this article ridiculous. Partially because you can slap a suit and tie on a fat man, and hardly anyone says a thing about his weight.

The other thing that bugs me is, our fixation on the health of "fat" people. It drives me NUTS. The assumption that because a person is skinny, he/she is healthier than someone who is fatter...give me a freakin' break. I'm not just saying all this because I am a fat person. I've lost nearly 50 pounds and I'm still going. I understand the importance of being healthy and doing all I can to live a good, long, healthy life. And I'm not saying that people should just stay overweight, especially when it's affecting their ability to function, stay alive, do the things they need to do...so on and so forth. But I get so sick, SO freaking SICK of "overweight" women being the target of criticism.

The only way you can judge if someone's healthy is...oh wait, there really isn't a way. Not unless you have tons of equipment and can know a person's history and crunch all the numbers. Who gave you the right to look at someone, merely LOOK at someone, and presume to know their eating and exercise habits? Seriously, drives me insane.

I believe in taking care of your body. And I believe in being healthy. But do I believe that all the skinny people in America take care of their bodies...and make healthy choices? No. No, I don't. It's so stupid to make that assumption. The obvious, automatic assumption when you see a heavier person standing next to a skinny person is that the skinny person eats "healthier" (and we all have different ideas on what "healthy" is...) and that the skinny person exercises more. Let me just say, this idea is bogus. Seriously bogus.

I understand there's an obesity "epidemic" in America. I understand that there's more processed crap than ever before. I understand that we need to make people aware of health issues and the reality of the situation. But seriously. SERIOUSLY...we ALL need to hear these messages. All of us. Just because I'm an unlucky person, who struggles with weight MUCH more than the average Joe, and has to constantly, CONSTANTLY worry about the physical consequences of what I'm putting into my body, does not mean I deserve to be treated any differently from anyone else. If I choose to eat a piece of pizza, and my skinnier friend chooses to eat a piece of pizza, heck...we're both making the same choice, and I shouldn't be judged harsher just because I've got a little more meat on my bones.

Can you tell this topic gets under my skin?

Thoughts? Agree? Disagree? Argue with me. Please and thank you.

The "hows" to my weight-loss success so far

Okay friends.

After several, and I mean SEVERAL, people questioning me over the last few weeks on my weight-loss success, I'm going to write a blog post about it.

Paleo.

Here's the deal. I have my thoughts, opinions and feelings on food, health and nutrition. And my thoughts, opinions and feelings do not have to line up with yours in order for us to remain friends. Since I have been asked by several people for tips, thoughts, explanations and so on, I'm going to share them here on my blog.

First and foremost, paleo has been much more a mind-shift than a diet-shift for me. It's true, I have shifted the way I eat. But I've shifted the way I see food and the way I see myself, which has helped me shift the way I eat.

I used to be someone who thought I'd never be able to look or feel good. I was cursed with a body that was fat. I had thoughts like, "It sucks that my skinny friend can eat a whole package of oreos, and I eat 3 and gain 5 lbs. It's not fair." I also had the mentality that the rest of the world has, which is..."If I can just lose 'this' amount of lbs. in 'this' amount of time, then...THEN my life will be better and THEN I can eat whatever I want." Everything was centered on time, numbers, and a fixation on the idea that it's not fair that I can't eat crap when other people can. I was obsessed with it. It made me justify everything. "It's not fair that I have to count calories. It's not fair that I have to worry about eating too much. It's not fair...blah blah blah."

Some how, some way, I realized that eating has nothing to do with being fair. Really...REALLY, none of us should be eating processed crap. It doesn't matter how skinny you are...it's not good for our bodies. But the reality is, what you do to your body has nothing to do with what I do to my body. And I finally figured that out.

I started seeing food as fuel...fuel for this God-given body that I've been entrusted with. Food is just like anything else; some things improve our well-being and help us achieve our goals, and some things set us back...and do not help our well-being.

So, one day...I just decided. I decided to stop looking at numbers. To stop comparing. To stop being envious. And I started to focus on my body. MY body. Not the world's view of a perfect body. Not the government's idea of what a perfect body should consume. MY body...and what makes my body feel good.

I listened to podcasts...specifically Latest In Paleo, which has since turned into less of a paleo podcast, and more of a whole-foods podcast. The producer, Angelo Copola, doesn't follow a strict "paleo" lifestyle. He eats grains on occasion and allows dairy into his diet. He does, however, eat natural, whole foods. The podcast takes a look at all sorts of articles, news clips, documentaries and debates about food...and he breaks them apart and looks at it through a paleo-ish lense. Listening to these podcasts allowed me to form my own thoughts and opinions on what I should be putting in my body...because I was hearing multiple view-points on health, food, nutrition an exercise....all from a wide variety of sources.

When I started the paleo lifestyle, I did it with the mindset that I'd see how I FELT after 30 days. Not how much weight I'd lose...but how I would feel. I didn't put a number on it. I didn't compare myself to any other person's experience with paleo. I just decided to do it, and then to see how I felt.

At the end of the 30 days of following a pretty strict paleo diet, I felt clean, more energetic, and my sleep had improved. So, I decided to keep going. I started August 8, 2011...and I've been living this lifestyle since that time.

So, do I "cheat"? What about wheat? What about "eat meat sparingly"?

First of all, the fact that I've shifted the way I see food means I no longer believe in the term "cheat" when it comes to food. Food is fuel. Some food doesn't fuel my body the way it should. Does it mean I'm cheating when I eat that non-productive fuel? No. I'm not cheating. How is that cheating? I'm just CHOOSING to fuel my body with fake substance that doesn't do much for my physical well-being. It's happy for my taste-buds in the moment. And you know what...that's just fine. I can make those choices if I want. And I do on occasion. It doesn't mean I'm a bad person. It doesn't mean I'm a failure at the paleo lifestyle. It just means I made a choice. And the choice produces some kind of consequence. Sometimes the only consequence is that I get to enjoy something tasty with my friends. Sometimes there are negative consequences, like feeling bloated, not being able to sleep very well, or having my pants feel a little tighter. But I made the choice, and it's the choice I wanted to make. I do not plan "cheat days." I do not calculate when I'll be able to eat certain things. I do not say "Well, because I ate this, I now have to run an extra mile." Nope... I just make choices.

So, yes, I do go off the Paleo beating path on occasion. Sometimes it's once a week. Sometimes it's once a month. Sometimes it's three times a week. The fact is, however...I don't plan and/or calculate those things. I just do what I want. And I can, now that my view of food has shifted. Because, you see, I no longer WANT to fuel my body with crap all the time. So my desire for crap is less frequent than it used to be. So when I do have a desire...sure. Once in a while I'll allow myself to have it, because I know that it won't be my main source of fuel.

Wheat. Eat meat sparingly. (This paragraph is for the Mormon readers out there. You can look up the Word of Wisdom here if you don't know what I'm talking about.) Well, to be honest...I don't care if YOU want to eat wheat. And, I do agree...that meat shouldn't be in every meal every day. But come on....really? Really? You're going to use the Word of Wisdom to keep you from eating HEALTHY? I view the paleo lifestyle as eating NATURAL WHOLE foods. So, really...maybe I shouldn't refer to it as paleo anymore. Over the year and a half that I've been eating this way, my views and ideas have evolved. So, maybe I should refer to it as a whole-foods lifestyle. But here's the deal. Gluten does not make my body feel good: fact. Wheat has gluten: fact. So, I don't eat wheat. Too many grains and starches make ME feel lethargic and cause my body to hold onto unneeded weight: fact. Do I believe grains are beneficial for the body? Yes, I do. So I eat them sometimes. Tell me this. If you're a person who eats lots of fast-food, processed food, and sugary items...but doesn't eat a lot of meat, do you think you're living the Word of Wisdom?

In a nutshell, here's what I'll say to people who are unhealthy, and ask me about how my diet lines up with the Word of Wisdom: Just cut out the processed foods. That's it. If gluten doesn't make you feel sick...GREAT, eat wheat. But make it yourself. Eat things that you could grow and make yourself.

So, moral of this whole story is....I don't really put numbers on things. I haven't given myself a time limit. I make goals based on physical things I want to accomplish. Like: I want my body to have enough energy to run a 5K. Or: I don't want diabetes. SURE, I do have sizes I'd like to see. But I don't center my whole world on those sizes. And I DON'T put a time-limit on when I should fit into those sizes. My main goal is PROGRESSION. I want to be healthier at the end of this year than I was at the end of last. If that means I'm another size down, then WOOOHOOO.

One more thing. WALK. I believe in walking. Walking will keep you alive. Sure, I've bumped my walking up to running. But I still walk every day as well. And I'm still progressing. Some day I want to add weight training into my exercise routine. Baby steps. I mastered walking first. Then I added running. I just don't believe in diving in the deep end when it comes to exercise...because if you're like me, you'll drown. I'm working my way up...slowly, but surely. With no time limits or restrictions.

The secret: Mind-shift before diet/exercise-shift.

If you made it all the way to the end of this post...wow. Good for you. I'm no expert. Not by ANY definition. I'm just telling you the mentality that's worked for me.

More links I've used throughout my year-and-a-half journey:

Favorite recipe blog: http://everydaypaleo.com/

Informative blogs:
Strict paleo: http://robbwolf.com/
A little less strict...defined more as "primal" living: http://www.marksdailyapple.com/
Whole foods living: http://www.westonaprice.org/basics/dietary-guidelines

Favorite podcast, which I linked to in my "novel" ;) : http://www.latestinpaleo.com/

Hey, so...listen.

Hey. So, I have this roommate who starts every sentence with "Hey, so" or "Listen." Once in a while she'll start it with "Look." But "Hey" and "Listen" are her most common and favorite. I've started to pick up on the isms...as I often do with whomever I'm around a lot.

Can I just say, I really enjoy my roommates. And currently, at this present time, they're filling our house with delicious smells of things I probably can't eat. :)

I would like to testify of the power of service for just a moment. This is not a story of where I served someone and it was a magnificent experience. NO. This is a story of someone serving me.

Once upon a time, I didn't know *insert person's name here* very well. She had little quarks...and because I didn't know her very well...those quarks kind of bugged me sometimes. I had no desire to get to know her...or try to be friends. Then one day I sprained my ankle. And *said person* took care of me. Beyond the normal care one gives a stranger when she sprains her ankle. She propped pillows up. Took my sock off. Observed the swelling. Put ice on it. Went to the store to buy more ice. Bought me dried fruit as a treat since she knows I try to stay away from processed food. She cleaned my nasty scrapes on my knee (spraining my ankle just wasn't enough that night...had to scrape up my knee and put a hole in my brand new workout pants) and applied healing jell stuff to it. She went to my room and brought everything down to the couch that I needed/wanted...backpack, computer, phone, charger. She made me delicious soup. And then she put on a movie and watched it with me as I stuck my foot in a bucket of ice/water. It actually wasn't a bucket...it was a big pot. And she's the one who prepared it for me.

Due to this one night...this one event...and these many acts of service, I have since gotten to know *said person* and I absolutely love her. I do. She's a tender, caring, thoughtful, good person who's just trying to make it through this life in one piece. We're buds now. And I'm so thankful to have her in my life. And that is the power of service. Pure, heartfelt, Christ-like service. It softened heart and removed my stupid, horrible pride...and now I have an amazing friend.

The other thing I wanted to say in the post is this. I post way too often on facebook. I need to disconnect from the world more often. My anxiety has been hitting full force the past couple of days...and I really think it has a lot to do with the fact that I'm always plugged into the whole freaking world. So, I've decided to try leaving my phone at home when I go places...and ah. Sweet freedom. The anxiety has subsided...somewhat. I left it at home last night when I went to dinner with my roommates. And I left it at home today when I went to church, and I actually took my HARD BACK scriptures...the physical ones that you actually turn pages instead of scroll through a little screen. And it was bliss. No temptation to check facebook. No temptation to text. No temptation to tweet. No temptation to play tetris. Just me, the Savior, the Spirit, Heavenly Father, the people I was worshiping with and the good books of scripture. The Spirit didn't have to fight for my attention. Peace. I need to disconnect more often.

But...don't be surprised if I keep posting on facebook often. I can't help it. I like to be heard. I just do. Whatev.